Seven's My Lucky Number
by emoticon1234
Summary: Seven. Seven holy temples, seven ancient planets...Seven Sins. Edward and Alphonse become even more tangled in the dark world of taboo alchemy when they meet a strange girl with seemingly no past, does she hold the key to what they're searching for?
1. Chapter 1

A small figure sat under the eaves of a brick building as rain pattered on the cobblestones. If you didn't look close enough you wouldn't even be able to distinguish the pitiful pile of rages from an abandoned sack of garbage. A miserable looking pack sat beside the figure in the gloomy November midmorning. One thing stuck out like a sore thumb on the grime covered face of the pauper; a pair of piercing blue eyes, the kind that seemed to see right through you, and look into your very soul.

"Face it, Al, this is a lost cause," a loud boy huffed to a large suit of armor that walked beside him. The small person found it odd that anyone would wear armor in this day and age…Then again, there were far stranger sights.

"Brother, we've only just started, we have all day," the armor echoed, the metallic ringing fading moments after the person inside was finished speaking.

"How can Mustang expect us to find anything? This girl, whoever she may be, is probably not here, maybe even dead for all we know," the short boy retorted, annoyance clearly written on his fac.

The pauper's expression and interest changed drastically in the few short seconds it took to register the boy's response to the armor. The large suit seemed to have noticed the small movement, and verified that the bundle of rags was alive.

"Brother, there's someone now, maybe they've seen the girl," the armor said, pointing out the pitiful lump on the sidewalk. Quick steps brought the suit of armor within a foot of the fragile looking human.

"Hello," the armor gave a cheerful greeting, completely disregarding the miserable setting. The small figure tilted their head, slightly, no more than a fraction, upwards to gaze at the suit of armor. The ice eyes drank in every infinitesimal detail. "Have you seen this girl? She's probably much older now," the armor posed the question, holding out a worn picture.

With trembling fingers the dirty person reached for the photograph. Pictured was a little girl, no more than five years old, in blue overalls. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into two messy plaits on either side of her babyish face. The picture had a gray, soft edge, showing that someone had taken great care in tearing it in half some time ago.

Salty drops fell freely on the picture, and not from the downpour of rain around them. The beggar hastily wiped the tears away, revealing a pale blotch of flesh from under the grime, but not quick enough for it to escape the armor's keen scrutiny.

"Does that mean you've seen her before?" it was a he, the pauper guessed, asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. The delicate head nodded wordlessly. "See brother?" the armor said turning to the skeptical looking boy. "We've already found a lead." The armor turned its attention once more to the shabby bundle of filth. "Can you tell us where she is?" The head nodded once more. "That's great! Where?" For who knows how long the pauper remained quite still, not wishing to divulge the precious information.

Impatiently, the blonde boy rolled his eyes, "Forget it, Al. We can find someone else with information." He began to walk away, but looked back when he saw the armor wasn't following

"Brother," he pleaded, "we can't just leave them here; it has to be zero degrees out. They could catch cold and die."

"Al, this isn't like a lost kitten," the rude boy said, his eyes suddenly soft, "a person's a different matter."

"Please," the armor whispered, and the boy who seemed to be his brother had a look of deep contemplation. The look in eyes changed from agony at not letting his brother have what he wanted and the satisfaction at moving quickly on with his business.

After a time the boy let out a sigh, "Okay," he relented, "but one night, and one night only." He held up his index finger to add emphasis to his condition.

The armor seemed giddy as he led the dazed and confused down-and-out around by the hand. The next thing the sad pile of muck knew, they were sitting in a warm diner. Not that they were bound to complain, it had been months since they had been this cared for. The figure peeped wearily out of the bundle of rags that concealed them. The armor and the boy were arguing about what to order; the armor insisted that they get something for the pauper as well, but the boy retorted that he was already providing a place to sleep and that should be enough charity for one day.

The armor eventually won and soon than could be expected, a large stack of flapjacks was on the way. A merry looking, young waitress placed the plate on the table, keeping a safe distance from the filthy indigent as if they had a disease that was catching. The blue eyes looking down at the hot plate of food, and reached out a shaking hand.

"Well are you going to eat or not?" the boy said, impatience ringing in his voice more apparent than ever. Without another though, the once trembling hands began to ravenously put every bit of food that would permit itself to be eaten inside the hungry mouth. The vicious hunger that had once ripped painfully at the insides of the humble beggar was subdued now.

"Brother, I'm going to go back to the inn. You should go back out and see what you can find," the armor said to the boy. The blonde nodded in response, standing and placing a numbered bill on the table to cover the check.

The vagabond trailed silently behind the suit of pale green armor. The town hadn't seemed to have changed much in the last three years. The inn was small and merry as usual. The armor led the walking pile of cloth up a flight of stairs to the small room with a pair of beds, stacked on top of each other in the corner. The room smelled faintly of tobacco and stale hay.

The armor shifted from foot to foot awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. The dirty human gazed intently upwards, waiting. "Um, would you like to rest or take a shower?" he asked, fussing with something on a table now.

There was a small, distinct movement that could only be characterized as a nod. The ratty, shabby cloak dropped to the floor and revealed the bulky, oversized clothes that looked like they belonged on a stocky paperboy. A tattered hat covered the grimy head, almost obscuring the peculiar eyes. With graceful steps the poor mendicant disappeared out the door and walked to the public bathroom down the hall, locking the door.

As the young beggar turned on the hot water of the shower, she stripped out of the filthy rags revealing her pale dirty body. She let out a sigh as the water caressed her grimy skin. Her gaze stayed focused on her toes and the drain where the murky water disappeared. A welcome bar of soap glided over the ashen skin until the dirt that had once coated it was all but gone. The once straggly hair had become a soft blonde color.

The person who stepped out of the shower was completely different than the dirt caked vagrant who had entered. A robe hung on a bar next to the shower. She quickly wrapped herself in it, relishing in the soft feel of cotton on her damp skin. Looking at the rags on the floor, she rolled her eyes in disgust and without thinking, let them fall into the garbage with a swift flick of the wrist.

She straightened herself and inadvertently caught a glimpse of herself in the steamy mirror. She turned her gaze completely to the reflection in the mirror, not shying away from I as she normally would.

It was a shocking sight. She greedily drank in the details of her face, not recognizing the person who stared back at her. She had been so sure that she would see the scrappy child of thirteen instead of the young woman who stared bewildered back at her. Had she really changed so much? Her mind was combing over the events of her past, and abruptly the reflection repulsed her; it made her think of a wasted childhood, years of cold, starvation, and loneliness.

Without warning, shattered glass was everywhere. Blood flowed freely from the girl's ivory hand, dripping into the porcelain sink. She couldn't remember smashing the mirror. She couldn't remember the moment her control had completely eluded her, letting blind rage take its place. Somehow it didn't make the sting go away.

The blonde haired girl put the burning in her hand at the back of her mind as she slipped out the window. She found herself on a long, narrow balcony that wrapped around the backside of the inn and was suspended twenty feet in the air; an alleyway separated the balcony from the next building.

She silently glided down the iron terrace to the last room; the brother's room, and peered cautiously in through the window.

The blonde boy was at the door with an excited expression on his face. His lips were moving quickly as he talked to the suit of armor. The both bounded from the room, the armor leaving something on the desk before he rushed out the door. When she was sure the coast was clear the girl silently slipped herself into the inn's room, moving with the grace of a wraith.

She took a moment to glance around the room once more with revived eyes and took in her surroundings once more. The inn's warm suite was square, with two bunk beds, connected by a ladder that rose from the floor, in one corner. A round, worn table was squarely in the center of the floor, and sparse, inexpensive paintings adorned the walls. A single suitcase lay abandoned in another corner.

Something caught the girl's eye; she looked more closely at the neatly folded pile of clothes on the table. She strode forward taking the cloth in her hands, recognizing it as her clothing that had been in the sad bundle she had abandoned on the floor in her haste to make use of the indoor plumbing. A piece of twine held it all together with a small tag attached to the string.

In a neat handwriting, the tag held words that could have easily come from the mouth of the occupant of that large suit of armor.

"I thought you might like some clean clothes."

She took another look at the clothes and realized with slightly watered eyes that not only were the former rags clean, but they were also mended of the many rips and tears that had previously been there. It was a matter of minutes before she was changed from the robe.

The girl sat herself on the bed, gently laying her body down, piece by aching piece. She curled into a balled covering herself completely with a quilt. Even though the straw from the bed was itchy, and the air under the quilt was stuffy and musty, sleep could not have come more easily to the young girl.

* * *

Edward Elric raced down the small town streets, every so often checking that his younger brother, Alphonse, was following, even though the close sound of the metallic clanking of armor's feet on the cobblestones was enough assurance of that.

"C'mon, Al, it's not too much farther," he shouted over his shoulder.

A woman bent over a table at a small restaurant to pick up a stack of dishes. She paused as Edward bounded in, slightly out of breath. The small bell above the door dinged once when Edward entered, then again when Alphonse joined him.

"So you're back, eh?" she said with a chuckle, sitting down at the table. "If I'd known that girl was going to be such a celebrity, I'd have watched her more closely."

"Al, she says she knows the girl in the picture," Edward filled his brother in, turning to him quickly as he explained.

"That's great, brother," the armor exclaimed.

"Well, don't be too excited, _knew _is much more appropriate." When Edward and Alphonse continued to stare intently at her, she sighed. "Yes, where to begin," the robust woman trailed off, wiping the sweat from her brow. "That picture you have isn't new if you didn't already know. I won't promise you'll find her, but I can tell you what I remember about her." She took a deep breath, sighing once more as she aimlessly dragged a wet rag across the surface of the already spotless table.

"I remember from the time she could run she was always flitting about town, getting into some kind of mischief or other. She and her friend, a boy some years older than her were always in trouble of some sort. I remember giving them a few scoldings of my own." She smiled, as if remembering a pleasant memory. "But what else can you expect from children with no parents to teach them different?"

"No parents?" Al said in a small voice, and the middle aged woman nodded.

"They were a pair of the handful of orphans the Chase Orphanage too care of. It shut down a few years back when the state just couldn't manage to fund it anymore; I think it's a right shame." She shook her head. "All those children who couldn't get adopted in time were just thrown out on the street with nothing but the clothes on their backs."

"That's horrible," Al said, and Edward looked at his brother, trying to comfort him with his gaze.

"Yes, I felt so bad for all those young ones who had to live outside when I was in the warmth. I gave as many of them as I could a home for the night, but I can barely afford to keep myself off the streets let alone keep a whole orphanage fed and cared for. Anyways, the girl's friend, that boy I told you about, he'd already been gone about seven years at the time. I haven't seen the around since the orphanage shut down. I'd bet my bottom dollar she went looking for him; you should have seen them together, practically inseparable, like brother and sister. She just wasn't the same child after he left."

"So do you have any clue where she might have gone to look?" Edward implored the woman for information.

She pressed a finger to her chin, "Well, I'm not quite sure; I think the boy went off when the recruiters came into town and took every able bodied man and boy back during the war. He never came back." The woman's mouth was set in a grim line, and it was apparent that she didn't know anymore.

"Thank you for your time," Edward said, standing up, his brother following in suit.

The walk back to the inn was spent in silence, until Edward broke it with a sigh. "Brother, what do we do now?" Alphonse asked, timidly.

"I don't know, Al. Our only lead told us that the person we're searching for hasn't been here in years. I think it's safe to say the only thing we can do is head back to Central," Ed replied, hands in pockets and gaze directed at the wet ground ahead of him.

"But, Ed, what about the beggar?" his little brother queried, "They seemed to recognize the person in the picture. Maybe if we were a little nicer, they'd trust us and tell us what they know."

Edward scoffed as he thought about the filthy person they had taken in for the night. "Al, they probably only said that to get a free meal. Don't be so naïve."

"Brother," Alphonse whined, "it's at least worth a shot, and it's better than going back empty handed."

"Fine," Edward rolled his eyes. He didn't see why his little brother was so attached to the homeless vagabond, but if he had learned anything about taking care of him it was that it was better to just humor him when he got like this.

* * *

The girl stirred under the covers, unaware of the time. She uncovered herself and looked out the window. I was already dark outside. There was a soft snoring from above her, and the top bunk sagged down slightly in the middle. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she noticed the suit of armor dormant in the corner, and wondered if the occupant had abandoned it for the night.

Now was the perfect time to escape. As she put her foot through the window, a wave of guilt washed over her. She had received a great show of kindness today, and hadn't even said thank you. With a sigh she brought herself back into the room. Her eyes roved around until they found a pencil and paper. She quickly scrawled a not explaining why she was leaving and how grateful she was to the two for giving her a place to temporarily recuperate. She set the letter down on the table and escaped out the window.

As she gracefully leapt from the balcony to the dark alley below she did not expect the rough tenor voice that threatened her as she landed, demanding she hand over her valuables. She turned and took in the trio of men, not much older than her by the looks of it, each with various weapons in hand. The front man, who she assumed had made the command, brandished a lead pipe. A slightly distant street lamp shed light on her face and they squinted at her face.

Suddenly the front man looked as if something very important had dawned on him, and with his next few words the girl had the same sense of recognition. "Look, it's the little freak all grown up."

"Yeah, freak," the other two guffawed

Her feet seemed to be glued to the ground as she looked fearfully at her childhood tormentors. The advanced on her, demented grins on their faces. Her body was rigid with fear and her eyes darted around. The closest escape was behind her and she snapped herself out of her stupor. She took off like lighting and ran to the dead end of the alley, only twenty feet away from the slowly progressing danger.

Her hands searched the brick wall looking for some purchase so that maybe she might be able to scale the wall. She was afraid that if she turned, she would forget everything and give up completely. She could barely hear the soft footsteps above her pounding heart. Her mind raced through what would happen if she screamed. She doubted anyone would come to her rescue.

And then a pair of large hands roughly turned her, pinning her against the brick. She couldn't seem to remember how to struggle as she stared mesmerized into the evil glint of the man's eyes. "Now, we're going to have a little bit of fun, and if all the little freaks know what's good for them, they won't put up a fight."

The man's lips crushed against hers in that moment, and as the bitter taste of alcohol flooded her mouth a thought went through her in head in a split second; if she was going to die, she refused to die like this. She bit down as hard as she could on the man's tongue and he recoiled sharply. With an angry growl he slapped her and threw her to the ground. He spat blood onto the ground.

The girl suddenly felt a horrible, indescribable wave of pain center itself on her left side. She tried to push herself up, but the lead pipe smacked itself forcefully onto her back, forcing her down to the ground once more, ripping fresh knives of pain through her. Kicks were aimed at her from every direction, and it was all she could do to cover her face. A warm sticky substance blurred her vision, and as she blinked through it, she realized it was her own blood. She had never been very devout, but at the moment she was praying that God would let it end soon.

Just when she had accepted that she was going to die there, someone shouted at her attackers, and momentarily diverted their attention. That was all she needed. As if a veil had been lifted from her spirit, she altogether remembered what was in her pocket, and what she would have done to anyone else who might have tried this.

"So you defend freaks, huh?" she picked out, a wave of adrenaline rushing through her broken body. "Would you like to die too?"

She found what she had been looking for, and with a wild rage she stood on bruised legs, slipping the ratty glove on. "I am not a FREAK!" she shouted, her voice hoarse from disuse, as she slammed her uncovered hand down onto the red circle on top of the glove.

Blue sparks began to shoot out of her fingertips, followed by strong bolts of electricity which flew out hitting the men who had attacked her. They crumpled onto the ground, completely unconscious. Her vision blurred further and she fell forward only to be caught by strong arms.

The blonde boy who she assumed hated her held her in his arms, as his brother fretted at his side. It seemed only moments later that she was back in the warm inn room, a wet cloth dabbing away the blood. She wasn't sure how long she drifted in and out of consciousness before she could finally keep a hold on the room around her. She opened her eyes as her cuts began to really sting and looked at the suit of armor.

"What's going on?" she asked, restraining the loud hiss of pain as she breathed. Her side felt like it was on fire, and breathing was like stabbing a rusty knife in her ribs. Her voice was slightly disoriented, and she couldn't help but wince as the armor wiped away the blood on her throbbing body. It was like she was one big bruise.

"I could ask you the same question," the blonde haired boy said, eyeing her suspiciously from a chair. "Why were those men attacking you?"

The girl took a deep breath, trying her best to ignore the searing pain," It's a long story." She was trying to conserve her breath so she wouldn't have to breath as often and endure the knife every time.

"Bore me," was the blonde boy's indifferent response. "And while you're at it, maybe you can tell me about this picture." He held up a photo; it was the complete photograph, both half of the picture that he and his brother carried. "I found it in your pocket. So, when exactly were you planning on telling us that you were the person in the picture; long enough to get a couple more free meals?"

"Give that back," the girl screamed, for the moment forgetting about her injuries as she lunged for the photograph. She instantly regretted the action as black spots dotted her vision, almost forcing her back to a near comatose state. She bit her lip, forcing back a scream. Blood slowly specked her lip as she broke through the sensitive skin.

"Brother, stop it!" the armor said, abruptly. "Don't be so, so…inhuman!" The girl fell back onto the bed, and the blonde boy's face was filled with deep hurt at the statement about his humanity.

He glared at the girl with rage alight in his eyes. "We're heading back to Central tomorrow, and you're coming with us," he said, his voice barely kept level, before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The tone he had used suggested that she had no choice in the matter; that if she were to refuse the blonde boy would hog tie her and stuff her in a trunk if it came down to it. She didn't doubt it.

The armor continued to clean and bandage her little by little. "I'm sorry for my brother, he's just a little on edge," the armor said softly after a while. "I'm Alphonse, by the way, Alphonse Elric. My brother's name is Edward."

"I'm Ron, just Ron," the blonde haired girl replied. She watched as he examined her hand, and as he deftly picked the glass shards out one by one, wiping blood not nearly as fresh as the rest. Alphonse didn't ask what happened, even though it was plainly obvious that it had not been inflicted when she had been attacked, and for that she was deeply grateful.

When everything was bandaged neatly, Alphonse sighed, "Well, Ron, you've got three broken ribs, I don't know exactly how bad they are, so you'll want to be careful until they heal; you don't want to puncture a lung," so that's what the painful breathing was about. "But other than that it's just bruises and cuts; nothing that won't heal with time."

"Well then, I suppose I should thank you; you've saved me more than once today, and if it weren't for you and your brother I might not be here right now," Ron replied looking at the floor.

"No need to thank us, it's what we do; helping people that is," Al said. Ron smiled a little bit, and it felt strange on her lips, coupled with the crippling pain that was sending still fresh waves of pain circuiting through her body.

"Well thank you all the same," she yawned, wincing as her ribs ached horribly. "I can't believe I'm still tired." She said it in a way that seemed like she was scolding herself.

"You should sleep, we can talk in the morning," Al said, standing up and walking to the corner.

"Aren't you…tired?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"No, I don't need that much sleep," he replied quickly, and she raised an eyebrow, reveling in the wonder that this action didn't hurt her.

"Okay," she said, and with great care laid herself down. It wasn't hard to finally surrender herself to the black for the second time and she sunk into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yay . Special Author's thingy w sooo... If you're reading this than yay, you make me very happy 3 Well, so on and so forth, I wonder, I've been on hiatus from temporarily and I didn't know about all these special updates...Are we now allowed to add pictures to our stories? I hope so, because I have a lovely banner for all of my lovely readers . Well ANYWAYS...Enjoy! 3**

* * *

Birds began their song as the sun started to rise. Ron stirred, and opened her eyes. She looked around her, dazed until the memories of the previous day returned to her. The painful ache in her side from the broken ribs throbbed as she sat up. She grimaced and her face responded with a dull twinge. Her fingers traced the bandage that held the split skin beneath her eyebrow together.

She was about to explore the rest of the bruises and cuts on her flesh when Alphonse came in with a tray of oatmeal and a glass of milk. He seemed surprised to see her awake.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully. He set the tray on the oak table, and Ron slowly got up, careful not to upset her already raw body, and walked as normally as she could muster over to him. "I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry or not."

"Thank you," she replied, sitting in front of the food," did you already eat or something?"

"Yeah, something," Al said, by the tone in his voice it sounded as if he were lost in thought.

Ron ate the meal gratefully, even though she had never been much of an oatmeal fan; she had no clue when her next meal would find her and she was going to relish the fact that something hot and edible was in front of her at the right now. Every so often she would glance up at Alphonse who was silent, before quickly turning her gaze back to her food. Edward came into the room towards the end of her meal, and upon seeing her scoffed, and slammed the door behind him. He stomped over to the corner and grabbed his suitcase.

"We're leaving in a half hour," he said coldly, slamming the door once more on his way out.

Ron looked down at the rest of her breakfast, wishing she could shrink into the floor. "Suddenly, I'm not very hungry," she said quietly, pushing the tray away from her.

The walk to the train station was spent in silence, and Ron tried to concentrate on the constant and unchanging sound of Al's footsteps; it kept her mind from wandering to far more unpleasant things.

The compartment on the train was small, two seats facing each other. Al too up a side by himself, and Ron nervously took the seat next to the window; the seat next to Edward.

He was staring anywhere but at her, his left boot on his right knee and his elbow positioned on the arm rest, his cheek in the palm of his hand; he looked almost bored. Still, the one time she had dared to glance at him, the unwelcome aura and the way he had himself angled as far as he could from her made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She wondered what she had done to offend him so completely.

The majority of the day was spent like this, the silence overwhelming. Al dutifully got lunch and dinner for them, but Ron sensed that he was just looking for an excuse to escape the heavy atmosphere. She didn't blame him.

Sometime early in the evening it began to pour rain. Ron seemed to recall from somewhere deep in her subconscious that raid had always had a way of making her tired. As she watched the rain fall to the ground, and listened to the gentle pitter-patter on the rood her eyelids began to become heavy.

* * *

Edward watched the blonde girl out of the corner of his eye as she drifted into an uneasy sleep. Only when he was sure that she was asleep did he relax his rigid position. He turned to look at her closely, the bruises that had colored her face only a mere twenty-four hours ago were already fading and healing, some of them green and yellow. It seemed odd to him but he disregarded it.

Only now that the girl couldn't see did he slip off his white gloves. He held his right hand up to the light, the metal prosthetic glinting in the light. He couldn't keep it off his mind, the night when...all the rules changed.

"Well she's…different," Alphonse said slowly as he noticed Edward's keep scrutiny. "Not exactly what I expected."

Edward nodded absently, when the train hit a bump. The sudden motion caused Ron to fall sideways onto Edward's shoulder. He quickly pushed her off with his left human hand as if he'd been burned by her contact. His fingers had enclosed around her bare forearm as he pushed her back to the window, and what felt like an electric shock pulsed through his body. He had quickly retracted his hand as the blonde girl fell back against the glass.

"Brother! Don't be like that, she can't help it!" Al lectured him as he grabbed a blanket from the overhead compartment above his head and placed it over Ron. Edward wasn't going to admit that he hadn't intended to be so rough when he had slid the girl over so he let himself be reprimanded by his younger brother. He opened his left hand, almost expecting it to have a scorch mark of some kind; it was unscathed. He glanced from his open hand to the sleeping girl and back again. She had not stirred from slumber. Suddenly he felt exhausted, and completely drained of energy. With an effort he put his gloves back on, and reached for the gas lamp in the corner of the compartment, turning it off.

"Going to sleep?" Alphonse guessed.

"Yeah," he replied, letting out a long yawn, and leaning on his arm that lay on the armrest, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Good night," his younger brother said, but Edward was already asleep.

_

* * *

_

"How dare you!" A cruel woman shrieked, taking a fistful of a small blonde girl's hair, "how dare you try to leave, you worthless wretch!" She forcefully threw her to the cement floor, next to an abandoned nail-file.

_The temperamental orphanage owner had caught the blonde child in her attempt to saw through the heavy iron bars of the cell-like room. She had managed to cut through one of the bars on the window, and was working on the second when the mad woman had made her rounds. Iron shards cut into the girl's hands from where she had fervently worked to free herself._

_Already the large leather belt that always hung faithfully at the woman's side was in hand, being thrown time and time again over the tender back of the young one. Ignored were the bloodcurdling screams and the pleas for mercy lest someone else should fall victim to the woman's evil whim. The girl who couldn't have been more than seven years old, looked at the door of her small room, and wished beyond anything that he would burst in and save her, just as he had always done. Finally, when it seemed that the beating was finished, the woman let out a low chuckle. "Do you really think anyone would want someone as stupid as worthless as you? You're nothing but a freak."_

_Abruptly the dream changed, and Ron found that she had substance; she wasn't watching a scene from her past anymore. She was in a square room, one that she had never been in before. A long table lined one side of the room with beakers and test tubes covering the surface. Charts covered every inch of space not taken up on the walls. A bookshelf with several volumes about alchemy sat adjacent to the table._

_At first it seemed that Ron was alone in the room, until a light scraping noise made her turn around. A young boy with short golden hair was concentrating on the elaborate transmutation circle on the floor; in the middle of the chalk drawing was a dish with a pile of what looked like ash. _

_He set down the chalk and wiped the sweat from his brow. Ron looked into the intense golden eyes, too old for a child. "Is that…Edward?" She quickly covered her mouth, thinking she had been too loud, but the younger Edward seemed not to have heard her. She reached out to touch him, not knowing what to expect. Her hand phased through him, almost as if he were made of gas._

_She had been so caught up in thinking that she had not noticed a second boy, and she had not noticed either of them cut themselves on the finger, only allowing one droplet of blood each to fall onto the gray pile of dust in the middle of the floor. She swiftly tuned herself back in, absorbing every detail. _

_"That ought to do it," Edward said, turning his attention to the younger boy beside him. The child had cropped brown hair and teal eyes. "Don't be scared, Al, everything's perfect." The younger Alphonse nodded; a nervous type of fear in his eyes. _

_With a deep breath, Edward said, "Let's go for it." The two boys pressed their small hands to the chalk on the stone floor, lighting it up with colorful shades of gold. The two boys' faces were alive with exhilaration._

_Suddenly, the golden rays of light from the alchemic reaction turned a menacing violet. Clearly the pair had not been expecting this, as surprise was evident on their faces._

_Ron could only watch in horror as they realized something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. A blinding light shot out of the mass in the center, and wrapped around Alphonse like tentacles. "Brother! Please!" he cried, reaching for anything that would stop him from being pulled in. His hands found no purchase._

_"Al! No!" Edward shouted desperation in his voice. He tried to catch his younger brother's hand, but, it was too late; the same feeler-like rays had caught hold of his left leg, leaving it completely severed _

_two inches below his knee. "Al, Alphonse! Say something!" the young boy cried, hysteria clinging to his words. "Don't leave me!" Realizing seemed to overcome the shock because he began to pound his fists on the ground. "Damn it! This wasn't supposed to-" He trailed off as his hands found the bloodied stump that had once been his leg. Tears rolled down his cheeks, "No! What have I done?"_

_The room was in ruins; glass shards lay scattered on the floor, and there was a pool of blood around Edward._

_As smoke from the failed transmutation cleared, a soft rasping noise seemed to get louder. Ron hadn't noticed it before over Edward's sobs, but now he seemed to be aware of it as well. He looked towards the center of the room. "Mom, is that you?" _

_Ron was as utterly horrified as the young Edward by the creature that now lay writhing on the floor where the ash had been. The young boy's screams echoed into stifling darkness. _

* * *

Ron awoke with a start; her heart racing, and her head spinning. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, and when it succeeded to hurt, she gave up on her dream theory. She was definitely awake.

She thought about the dream, no, nightmare, she had just had, and shuddered. Her heart slowly stopped trying to beat its way out of her chest, and she looked around the compartment. By the light, it couldn't have been very long after daybreak; a cool woman's voice over the speaker confirmed her thoughts.

"Good morning passengers. It is currently five after the hour of six in the morning. We will arrive at Central Station in approximately nine hours. We encourage you to enjoy the rest of your ride, and thank you for choosing Continental Railways." Ron rolled her eyes; sounded like a prepared statement to her.

She looked at Edward, slumped over the armrest in a deep sleep. All of his previous aggression had vanished, and he looked so innocent. He was mumbling incoherently, and she leaned closer to listen.

"No, Al, that's my cookie," he said softly, and no matter how he had acted toward her the previous day, she couldn't help but smile a little.

Al wasn't in the compartment and she didn't want to be alone with Edward when he woke up. Whatever it was that she had done to him, she didn't want to aggravate it further. She shrugged out of the plain, grey blanket that had been on top of her and quietly stepped out into the hall.

The train car was nearly silent; the only sounds were soft snuffles and snores from the various compartments. It made Ron feel strangely at ease. She wandered toward the back of the train, fixing her eyes on the patterned carpet which changed from car to car.

"Oh!" she gasped, colliding with a large piece of metal. She looked up at Alphonse's wide frame. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you." She was at the back of the train; Alphonse had been in the doorway between the car and the traditional platform that hung on the last boxcar. He chuckled a little bit, as if the idea of anyone i_not_/i seeing him was funny.

"It's okay, I was just coming back anyways," Al said kindly after a moment, amusement in his voice. The walk back to the compartment was silent, but not uncomfortable. Ron was really starting to like Alphonse.

The feeling that had bubbled in Ron's chest, the feeling that was almost happiness, abruptly disappeared as she looked at Edward who had woken up in her absence. The cold glare he had given her the previous day was only intensified after his slumber. She felt like someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over her head without warning. Whatever unseen progress Alphonse had made with her was shattered with his brother's menacing expression.

Ron slowly walked back to her seat as if not trying to provoke a wild animal. She settled herself in for a day much the same as the one before. An involuntary sigh slipped past her lips. Her mind began to rove where her body could not, and she found herself straying back to the square room of her dreams. She had seen it so clearly, observed every detail, and could remember it with frightening clarity.

This was not the first time she had had a dream quite like that, one she could remember unlike most dreams; it was the first time it had been about a place she had never seen. In the rare times the anomaly had occurred in the past, she could almost always recognize the setting within seconds. This dream confused, and in more ways than one frightened her.

The brooding atmosphere had returned, and it made the minutes stretch on endlessly. She had been staring out the window for some time, her mind still on the nightmares that woke her, when the silence seemed to be too much.

"Al?" she asked, and he looked up, surprised that she had been the first to break the quiet.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"Do you have a pen and paper?" The tone in her voice must have sounded urgent in her impatience, because he quickly got up and began to search the compartment. He returned to her with a black fountain pen and a pad of ivory colored paper. Across the top in immaculate, curling letters was the company logo. "Thank you," Ron smiled.

"Yeah; is everything alright?" he asked, concern hanging onto his question. He paused, waiting for a response.

"Uh-huh, just a little bored, that's all," her assurance must have appeased him, because he went back to reading the red leather bound book in his hands. She looked at the blank piece of paper that was roughly five by seven inches, and began to sketch. Her hands moved of their own accord as she drew a scene from her nightmare. Her logic was simple; if she put her nagging thoughts down on paper, it would keep her mind busy, and when she was finished, put her mind at ease. She found it funny that her only talent at art was with her bizarre dreams; she was hopeless at drawing anything without the vivid images in her mind. She could feel Edward's eyes on her, and she tried to keep it from distracting her.

His blatant hatred of her was starting to make her irritated as she watched him stare at her out of the corner of her eye. It was beginning to make her more angry at him than scared. She had been making a great effort to not provoke him, but he only seemed to hate her more. She angrily put the final touch on her drawing. It was a near replica of the room in her dream before the failed transmutation. She could still feel Edward's eyes on her, and she turned to shoot a glare of her own at him. She didn't expect to see his golden eyes wide with recognition and even fear.

Suddenly she was being roughly yanked out of the compartment, Edward's right hand gripped almost painfully around her left arm. She barely heard Alphonse's surprised cry. Edward was walking so fast that it was almost classified as running. When they were very near the front of the train, in a luggage car, he slowed his pace and turned on her, slamming her against the wall and pinning her there by her throat.

"Tell me everything you know," he growled in a low voice.

"And what if I don't know anything?" she replied through gritted teeth. His right hand clenched around her neck was strong, almost inhumanely so, and she struggled to keep her breathing even.

"I don't believe you," he said menacingly, tightening his grip. "Now talk."

"First, I suggest you get your hand off my throat," she said, the fury in her eyes matching his. "If you don't, I swear I'll scream." Realizing the futility of his quest if he didn't comply, the blonde haired boy released his hand and stepped back. Without warning Ron delivered a swift kick to his stomach that made him double over. "I don't like to be threatened." When Edward stood back up her features were carefully arranged in a cool calm. "If I answer your questions, I want answers back; that's the only way you'll get what you want."

He seemed to contemplate his options for a moment, before answering curtly, "Fine."

"Now that we've come to an agreement…What the _hell_ do you have against me?" She glared at him with new intensity, and he glared back. Sparks seemed to fly between their furious gazes.

Edward spoke, his voice filled with anger, "I resent you, and you want to know why?" The question was rhetorical. "You seem to think we have all the time in the world. I have worked too hard to waste my time chasing down little runaways when I could spend it doing something important."

"Well, I'm sorry to _inconvenience_ you," she replied sarcastically. "And for the record, being on this train with you wasn't exactly my idea." She crossed her arms and waited for him to begin his interrogation.

He took a breath, still fuming, before he began. "I want to know; who are you?" It was an odd sort of question, and Ron wondered if he was serious. He raised an eyebrow waiting for her response.

"I'm Veronica Chase, sixteen years old, orphan," she said, and the expression that crossed his face showed that he wasn't satisfied with her answer. "Next question."

Somewhere along the line, the pad of paper with her sketch had no longer been in her hands; she couldn't recall Edward taking it from her, but he held it up in front of her. "What do you know about this?"

She looked at him seriously, "If I told you…You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me," he replied, rolling his golden eyes.

"Fine, you asked for it," Ron said with a heavy sigh. She looked at the floor as she searched for the right words. "Sometimes, I have dreams…Dreams that don't make any sense. That room," she jerked her head at the piece of paper, "Was in one of those dreams." He gave her a skeptical look.

"You were right; I don't believe you," he said.

She ignored his remark, "So did you have anything else to add?"

"Yeah; why did those men attack you?" he asked. It sounded as if he had been playing this question over and over since the original time he had asked it at the inn.

Her tone was guarded, and her eyes wary, "Let's just say that those guys never really liked me." She wasn't about to spill her life story out to someone she had just met, just because they asked. "Is that all?" He nodded. "Good, my turn." She had a million questions, but she tried to single out the most important ones. "Why…" she trailed off deciding on her question, "am I here on a train, with you and you brother, headed to Central, in the first place?"

For a second it looked as if he wasn't going to answer, but then he began, "I'm a state alchemist. As part of my job, I get sent on missions. One of my missions was to locate the girl in this picture," he swapped the pad of paper for the aged photo, "and since you fit the description, I'm obligated to take you back to Central with me, one way or another." The tone he used implied that he had been given permission to use force if necessary.

"Well what makes me special enough to catch the military's attention?" she asked, puzzled. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," he shrugged, and the sincerity in his voice made it sound like he had been wondering the same thing. They had both stopped talking, thoughtful expressions on both their faces. The train jerked roughly, throwing both of them off their balance. Edward fell forward knocking Ron backwards with him. Her face flushed a bright red, as she looked up at the boy on top of her.

The door to the luggage car slid open and a couple in their early twenties waltzed in. "Sorry," the man said, clearly drunk, as he spotted the two on the floor, "we'll come back later." Ron felt the heat rush to her face as she forcefully shoved Edward off of her. She found herself on her feet and she bolted from the luggage car in an embarrassed huff. She couldn't quite recall a time she had been that humiliated.

She barely heard Alphonse ask her if she was alright as she sat back in her seat. She lied, not willing to relive the incident. Edward did not return to compartment, and she was immensely relieved; she didn't think she could handle being in the same room with him again without her face turning a violent shade of red. The feeling was mutual.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yay! I gots the third chapter all printed and out for everyone to see. I luffs all my reviewers so kudos to those who critiqued my story. I enjoy actual reader's thoughts on my stories. I'm sorry for the spelling errors, I think I was typing too fast and the errors didn't show up on spell checker. Anyways, here's chapter 3, and enjoy luffs!**

* * *

The rest of the journey to Central Station was spent in silence. Edward made an uncomfortable reappearance sometime in the afternoon, but when exactly Ron couldn't be sure. It seemed that the hours apart made things easier; she only turned a light shade of pink as he sat in the seat next to her.

She was secretly dreading what awaited her when she got off the train, and she came up with several theories, most of which she discarded as ridiculous, as the green scenery sped by. Her concealed panic seemed to make the time fly by, and before she knew it the grassy landscape began to change into concrete and stone.

A nauseous feeling rolled in the pit of her stomach as the train began to slow, and the cool woman's voice came over the PA system once more. "Good evening, passengers. We will be arriving at Central Station in approximately five minutes. We ask that you gather you belongings as anything left on the train after departure will be appropriately disposed of. We hope that you have enjoyed your ride, and thank you for choosing Continental Railways." As with the morning announcement, the broadcast was filled with false cheer.

Ron tried to keep her face composed as the train came to a slow stop in front of the train station. Her heart had started racing. Was she going to be arrested as soon as she stepped off the train? She was on the brink of hyperventilation. She followed Edward and Alphonse, her mouth set in a grim line.

When she stepped onto the platform, and nothing unpleasant greeted her, she let out the breath that she had been holding. Her eyes still scanned the crowd that packed around the train, looking for anything that might jump out at her and try to put her in chains.

"We should go to Headquarters and report in; get debriefed," Edward said, mainly to Al as he and his brother walked into the busy city of Central. Ron swiftly trailed behind them, keeping pace with Edward's quick strides. She looked around her constantly, taking in all the sights and smells of the big city. This was her first time in the capital city. Now that she thought about it, it was glaringly obvious where most of the military force was gathered…and buried. She mentally kicked herself for not coming sooner.

Had she heard Edward correctly the first time they had met? Had he really said _his _name? It seemed too easy, like a gift from the powers that be. She glared at the ground; she shouldn't get her hopes up. Just the thought that he might be alive had kept her going all those years, it was the reason she had been so complacent with Edward and Alphonse, two people she barely knew. The thought of their reunion had been the constantly on her mind, and she had often pictured how it would be; whether it was in front of a tombstone or in a field of happy flowers she had thought of it before. She was so full of questions that it was almost overwhelming. She had all but given up when she heard his name, and that irrational spark that went against all logic and proper judgment had flared to life once more.

Not that any of her questions were nice by any means. Just the thought of him was painfully agonizing. It was his fault, his initial kindness that had kept her holding onto life and that had driven her to near insanity. She had lingered and clutched at strands of a life already passed over because of a broken promise.

Ron looked up, and was surprised to find that they had already arrived at the large Central Headquarters. Edward opened the large, mahogany double doors with familiarity and ease. The formal air to the interior made Ron nervous again, her heart was pounding slightly with anticipation. The halls only seemed to stretch for miles, and Ron was becoming very dizzy. Finally after what seemed like hours of walking down carefully whitewashed corridors, Edward stopped in front of a door that looked like every other door in the hallway.

"Stay," he commanded, gesturing to a small bench. Alphonse did as told, taking up almost the whole bench by himself. Ron followed in suit as Edward walked into the room. A soft murmur of voices could be heard from the silent walkway.

She looked up Alphonse and his large build. Only now did it occur to her that this may be the last time she would see him, that that stung; she had become quite attached to him in her own right. "Psst," she whispered attempting to catch this attention, "hey, Alphonse?"

"Yeah?" he replied turning to look down at her.

"Um," she fidgeted in her seat, keeping her blue eyes on the ground. "I just, well, want to say, um…Thank you; for everything. You were so kind to me, even when you didn't have to be, and you'll never know just how much that really means to me." She was starting to tear up a little bit and she fought to keep herself under control.

When she was calm again, she continued, "And I was wondering. Um, if this is the last time we get to see each other will you…Will you still be my friend?"

Before he got a chance to answer, Edward came out of the office, a hard look on his face. He pointed at Ron, "He wants to talk to you." Ron gulped; she didn't know who was on the other side of the doorway. The blood flushed from her already pale face as she walked to the door. She felt like she was walking through some highly viscous material, like mud. The professional looking door didn't have a name on it, only a number.

She backed into the office, closing her eyes as she shut the door, hearing it click into place. She took a deep breath and turned around, lettering her eyes flutter open.

Her jaw dropped as she got a good look at the man sitting behind the desk. It was almost as if he hadn't changed at all over the long years. His jet black hair was still messy and unkempt, and his charcoal eyes were still the same cool shared that she remembered, but the warm smile from her memories was replaced by a cold businesslike stare. He only held the expression for a moment before his eyes widened with shock.

Anything that she had been planning on saying before was lost to her now, now sound would escape her open lips. It felt like her heart had been shattered and the pieced strewn around. She suppressed a sob. Several things went through her mind as she analyzed every detail of the room, from the tasteful furniture to the woman in the corner who eyed her warily.

"R-Ronni?" he whispered, and she cringed at her childhood nickname, "Is it really you?" His voice, so cautious as if he spoke any harsher she would break down, set her over the edge. Her pain turned into a black fury, and she glared up at him, rage burning in her eyes.

"So, Roy," she said through gritted teeth; her eyes moved to the ornamented golden nameplate on his desk. "Or would you prefer colonel? Surprised to see me? Was it your idea to come and find me or were you planning on waiting another ten years?!" Her voice had grown in volume with each word, until she was screaming the words, the anger consuming all thought. She barely noticed him scramble to get around his desk and reach her.

"Ronni, if you know why—" he started, extending his hand to touch her shoulder. His face was full of chagrin as Ron roughly slapped his hand away.

"Don't you dare touch me," she growled, "and don't call me that; that's not my name anymore!"

"I…I'm so sorry," he said, trying once more to reach his hands out to her small shoulders. His fingertips barely grazed against her before he was lying flat on his back. Ron had sucker punched him in the gut with all of the force she could muster in her fury.

"I said not to touch me!" she shrieked before bolting out of the room. When she swung the door inward, Edward and Alphonse toppled in on top of each other; they had been eavesdropping. Ron leapt nimbly over them and sprinted back to the outside where everything didn't remind her of Roy Mustang. The tears flowed freely as she raced down the carpeted hallways. She didn't try to quiet the strangled sobs that racked her whole body.

"Ron!" Alphonse called after her. "Brother, we have to go after her!" He was on his feet, running as fast as his armored body would permit.

Edward lithely got to his feet and only took a second to shake his head in disgust at his superior before chasing after his younger brother.

It was still silent in the office for several minutes, the colonel still on the floor, before Lieutenant Colonel Riza Hawkeye decided to speak, "Sir?"

He gazed up at the blonde woman, a dazed look in his eye as he acknowledged her.

"I may be making an assumption, but you could have easily defended yourself against that girl; why didn't you?"

Mustang got up, heaving a heavy sigh. "I've already hurt her beyond words, I deserve every harsh feeling and so, so much more.

"Hawkeye, would you believe that when I was a child that I lived in an orphanage? My parents died in a car accident when I was eight years old. That's where I met _her_.

"She was no big ordeal, just another infant left without a trace on the steps of the orphanage. She was given some random hand-me-down first name, and the surname of the orphanage. At the time, I was only nine years old. The owner of the orphanage was a cruel, vicious woman who would beat you as soon as look at you, and she seemed to detest her, even as a small child. The other children avoided her as much as possible to evade unnecessary punishment, all that is except me.

"I took her under my wing and raised her like an older brother. We were practically inseparable. My father had been an alchemist, and I learned from the books that I got as my meager inheritance; she learned too. She learned so quickly, quicker than a young child should, until we were on the same level.

"Years later when I was fifteen, a recruiter came to draft for the eligible men and boys for the army and the war. I was chosen, and before I left I made her a solemn promise; I would save up whatever money I earned, and when the war was over, I would come back for her." He paced around the room in silence for a while before continuing on with his tale.

"At first I enjoyed the thrill of the soldier's life, and I was quickly promoted. The shortage of worthy alchemists made the alchemy test just that much easier, and soon I was given a silver pocket watch and put on the frontline. The weaker ones died of course, but I survived; only because my talents proved destructive and lethal." He put his face in his hands, as if wishing he could forget the next part of his story.

He regained his composure once more before continuing, "I did things that I will never forget; terrible things that changed me. I was no longer the young orphan boy who had left her. How could I let her see the _monster_ I had become? So I broke my promise so she would never have to see me for the wicked, evil person I really was."

"That poor child," Hawkeye said with both pity and awe in her voice.

Ron's sobs had died down into light snuffles. Her face was red and tearstained, and it hurt to make any expressions. She thought that she had cried everything out long, long ago, and the tears had surprised her at first. She wiped the remaining salt water off her face with the back of her palm, wincing as she rubbed the tender skin.

She had run without really paying any attention to where she was going, and now she observed as she looked around, she was in a grassy park. Rain began to drizzle down from the sky, and Ron rushed to get under the cover of the large branches of a tall oak tree. She sat on the damp grass grazed and hugged her legs to her small figure. As she rested her head on her knees she let her eyes close.

The rain began to come down harder, ice cold as it drenched her even through the cover of the large tree. She curled herself tighter, too tired to move. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, the rain soaking her, and eventually causing her to burst into a fit of violent shivers; it could have been minutes or hours or even days, but she didn't care. The only purpose her life had held for the majority of her life was probably warm and dry, laughing at her. Thunder pealed in the distance, and Ron found that she was crying again, the tears mixing with the raindrops.

"So were you planning on drowning soon, or would you prefer being inside?" a sarcastic voice asked, a hint of amusement playing on the corner of his tone. Ron looked up at Edward who was crouched down, level with her face. He appeared to be just as soaked as she was. "Well?" He stood up, extending a hand down towards her to help her up. She hesitantly took it, releasing it as soon as she was steady on her feet. Her head began to spin, but she walked determinedly behind Edward, refusing to fall. It was a long walk back to Central Headquarters, and she was truly surprised at how far she had gone in her anger. She was relieved when they entered the large double doors again and she was able to sit on a bench, the spinning in her head was lessened enough that she could speak without straining to keep her voice steady.

"You came to find me?" Ron asked with confusion apparent in her voice. Was this the same boy who had said he didn't have time for her only that same morning?

"It was my brother's idea. He was almost too worried to be logical. I had us split up; I think he's still looking for you in the north sector of the city," Edward replied, sitting on the bench as well and putting his hands nonchalantly behind his head. "He'll turn up soon enough." Ron listened as the water droplets fell beneath the bench and pooled on the tile that lay on the outskirts of the red carpet that ornamented all the hallways. Her teeth chattered noisily, as she tried to warm herself by hugging her wet arms to herself.

"Brother?" Al called frantically, "I looked everywhere, and I couldn't find her. Did you—" he trailed off as he caught sight of Ron. "Oh."

"I found her, Al," Edward said calmly, "relax."

"Are you okay?" Alphonse asked, almost like a worried mother, disregarding his brother's request. "I was so worried, and then it started to rain, and—"

"Al!" Ron interrupted him mid-ramble. "I'm just fine," she lied. She stood to emphasize her point, and new more intense dizziness washed over her. Almost as if all of the blood had rushed from her head to her feet, the world around her went black, and she fell to the ground.

"Ron!" Alphonse called for the second time that day.

A warm hand pressed against her already sweltering forehead. "She's running a fever," Edward's muffled voice said, and she barely noticed herself move from the ground, her face resting on something cool and hard before she completely slipped from consciousness.

Edward waited next to his brother, Alphonse, in the hallway of the hospital that was only a few streets down from Central Headquarters.

His teeth gritted together as he tried to keep breathing through his mouth; it was times like this he wished he were the one in the suit of armor, unable to smell. The heavy scent of alcohol and throw-up made his stomach turn, and he was pretty sure he looked green.

"Were you the two who brought the young girl in?" an old doctor with thick spectacles asked, looking warily at Edward.

"Yes, how is she?" Alphonse asked, not seeming to observe Edward's nausea.

The doctor gladly stepped away from Edward as he spoke, "She's stable to say the least. She was suffering from severe malnutrition. You told the nurse that prior to today she wasn't showing any symptoms? I'm surprised she made it this far in her condition; something like this doesn't happen overnight. A rough guess is that she's been dealing with this for several months, maybe even years. She got caught by a cold, and her immune system was so weak from lack of nutrients that she just couldn't handle it. In a way it was like a house of cards, and it just piled up until everything toppled down on itself.

"I also noticed that two of her ribs were healing from breaks, probably occurring some months ago. Thankfully they didn't set wrong, and will heal up nicely." The doctor pushed his glasses up on his nose.

Roy Mustang dashed down the linoleum hallway, coming to a halt as soon as he spotted Edward and Alphonse.

"I came as soon as I head," he gasped, out of breath. "How is she?" He tried to regain some of his dignity after his mad race, and the doctor glanced at him beneath his spectacles.

"Are you the girl's guardian?" the gray haired physician asked, skepticism in his voice.

"Y-yes," Mustang replied hesitantly. The doctor repeater his diagnosis, the colonel's eyes widening with each malady.

"Does she have a history of eating disorder?" the doctor whispered to Mustang, but Alphonse answered for him.

"No," he said defensively. The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"Standard question in these situation, you understand," he said reassuringly, and Al relaxed a little bit.

"Can we see her?" he asked, his voice suddenly eager. The doctor seemed to debate the idea for a moment, indecision clear in his bespectacled eyes.

He let out a sigh, "All right. She's sleeping in room 110; try not to wake her." Alphonse needed no more go ahead than that, and he was already clanking down the hall, Edward not far behind; anything to escape where the stench of the sick was strongest.

The patients' rooms were much better cared for than the emergency room. The smell of sick in Ron's room was almost completely disguised by the smell of bleach and flowers. Ron lay on the bed, an IV hooked into her arm; it led to a bag of clear fluids by her bed.

"She looks so small," Al said softly, "breakable even.

Edward looked at the girl. Her blonde hair was still damp from the rain, her face still but troubled. Her chest rose and fell evenly as she breathed. Edward sat in a chair, waiting for his brother to stop fussing. The hours passed quickly in this manner.

He had the feeling that Alphonse would have stayed by the girl's bed all night if a young nurse hadn't come in to tell them that visiting hours had ended. As they walked back to Headquarters, he couldn't help but smile at his little brother's voiced concerns.

A pale yellow light shown through the window of the small hospital room, and turned the back of Ron's eyelids a vibrant shade of red. Reflexively she moved her hand to shield her eyes, her hand brushing over the damp cloth on her forehead.

She quickly sat up, disoriented by her unknown surroundings. "Where am I?" she whispered hoarsely, her throat feeling raw, almost like someone had rubbed it down with sandpaper.

The robust nurse in the corner jumped in surprise at the sudden sound, and turned to look at her. Her mouth spread into a warm smile. "Good morning, dear," she said in a motherly tone. She walked over to Ron's side, her messy brown bun that was streaked throughout with gray bobbing behind her as she moved and started taking Ron's pulse.

"You're certainly the popular little miss, aren't you?" she said cheerfully as her hand moved to Ron's forehead. "Mm, your fever's broken; you should be sunshine and daffodils by the end of the day.

"Anyways, you've had quite the party of visitors," the talkative woman continued as she wrote on a clipboard. "I practically had to throw those two boys out, and my, my, the Fuhrer himself came to see you! I said to myself, 'Abigail, this must be one special little girl'." Her friendly tone made Ron feel at ease as she let her chatter away.

Suddenly the stout nurse looked at her watch, and smiled. "Looks like it's my cue to leave; visiting hours start in a few minutes. No doubt your friends will show up right on time." She hustled out of the room, winking at Ron before she left. Just as the nurse had predicted, Alphonse showed up in the room, Edward walking casually at his side not a few moments after she had left.

"You're awake!" Alphonse said happily, and she couldn't suppress a smile. He eagerly took the chair by the bed as he began to chat with her; she listened as he told her why she was in the hospital, and his day's activities up to that point. Being with Alphonse was easy and she found herself chattering back. Edward sat in the corner of the room, smiling occasionally at the jokes. It seemed too soon when a nurse came to announce that visiting hours had ended. Ron watched with sad eyes as the two departed.

She watched the clock opposite her bed, bored. The door creaked open, and she turned her head, curious to see who was coming to see her now. A tall man with black hair that was combed back out of his face stood in the doorway. His left eye was concealed by a black eye-patch, and he wore a military uniform. "Miss Chase, you're awake."

The Fuhrer coolly sat in the spot Alphonse had occupied; somehow it didn't feel as comfortable having him as her visitor. "I was hoping to talk to you, it's rather important."

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes as he continued, "Such a bright young talent like yourself lies in our midst, and it would be a shame not to try to help you reach your full potential." His smile was warm, but didn't reach his one eye; it might have fooled a less observant person.

"I don't mean to appear rude, but what is it exactly that you want from me?" she asked cautiously.

To her surprise he began to laugh, "My dear, you misunderstand me. All I'd like to see is that your young mind is given the chance to be at its peak. I wanted to offer you that opportunity; I felt it so important that I decided to visit you personally."

"What kind of opportunity?" Now her tone was more curious than suspicious as she gazed intently at the man.

"Are you aware that the State Alchemist Certification Exam is in six months? I was hoping to have you attend," he said, the same smile plastered on his face.

"I don't know," Ron replied, her face unsettled. "I doubt I'm good enough for that."

"Another state alchemist would be assigned to help you learn; all of your accommodations and needs would be taken care of until the time of the exam. Not to mention that if you were to pass, you would have access to the Grand Central Library's section on alchemy; books upon books completely devoted to the science of alchemy," he said, and Ron bit her lip at all of the tempting things he said to her. "All you have to do is think about it. I'll send someone in the morning to collect your answer." He stood up from the chair still smiling. As he reached the doorway, he turned to look at her one last time, "Oh, Miss Chase, before I forget; I understand your guardianship has come under question, and that at the time being you are a ward of the state. Perhaps we can sort that little detail out. I would hate for you to be sent into another orphanage. Have a good night." The uneasy feeling in her stomach vanished as the man casually walked away, she shook it off to nerves and went back to staring at the clock.

The hours seemed to drag as she kept track of the time, always letting her mind wander. She vaguely remembered eating dinner, and soon it was late enough to sleep. As soon as she lay down she was unconscious; it didn't matter that the hospital bed was hard as granite.

A young nurse with short brown hair wheeled a cart down the midnight hall. The hospital was filled with sleeping patients and no one noticed as she turned into a dark room.

Silently the nurse padded over to the bed and stared down at the young girl who lay there. Only a silhouette in the moonlight, the figure changed form. Now an androgynous figure stood in the small room. The mysterious being seemed to growl, the tension in the room at a high, and the girl frowned in her sleep.

"Enjoy sleep, it's the only place you can escape me," the shape hissed menacingly. The outline stroked a pale hand against Ron's face, and she shuddered instinctively.

Quick as lightning, the window was open, and the silhouette had vanished. Ron stirred, blearily opening her eyes to the empty room. She was back asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay!!! I got the fourth chapter out! I'm so happy with myself, I could dance around with joy! Well my lovelies, I give you the fourth installment of "Seven's My Lucky Number", enjoy! Oh yesh, and thankies for everyone who reviewed and fav'ed/added my story, you have all of my luff, and I will give you all cupcakes (if only e-cupcakes)!  
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Ron hugged herself for warmth as a cold November draft blew into the small hospital. After a few moments of fruitless effort, she gave up on her attempt at returning to sleep. With an annoyed sigh, she pulled herself out of the hospital bed, stretching her aching muscles as she planted her feet on the cold tile. She closed the window that lay just above the head of her own bed, clicking the lock into place, and absently wondered why a nurse would open a window this close to winter.

Ron sat on the small bed, tracing patterns on the plaster ceiling with her eyes. She shifted her gaze to the door with a smile as her favorite hunk of metal clanked in. "Hey, Al," she said, her smile reaching to her eyes.

"Ron! Good News!" Alphonse said, excitement shining in his voice, "The doctor said that today you can get out of here."

"Thank God," she replied, as a renewed eagerness to be free of the overbearing walls of the bland hospital consuming her. "So when can I leave?"

"I guess it'll take a few hours to get the right papers in order, but he said at the latest you'll be out of her by early this afternoon, Al said, nearly jumping with joy.

"That's great!" Ron exclaimed. The two chattered animatedly for several minutes before Ron noticed something was missing, "Al, where's Edward?" He was not sitting in the chair in the corner as he had been for the majority of the afternoon the previous day.

"Oh, he's in the alchemy section of the Central Library, researching. He said that he didn't think you'd mind if he didn't come along."

"I see," she replied, looking down for only a moment. "So…What's he researching?"

"Nothing important, just something that he's been looking into," Alphonse answered nervously, fidgeting in the hospital seat.

"Okay. So what happens if he finds what he's looking for?" Ron asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, then I guess we'll go and investigate it; hopefully we can find a lead and go from there. My brother's smart, and he's working so hard, I know he'll get what he's looking for." Al had started a monologue, the admiration apparent in his voice.

"How long will you guys be gone?" Ron felt herself straying dangerously close to a topic that she'd instinctively like to avoid.

"Days, weeks, who knows?" Alphonse said, the excitement never dying from his voice.

"Weeks?" Ron's voice broke as she got the word out. It was the second time she had realized just how dependent she had become on Alphonse; sine he had come into her life, he had been like fire to the ice of her being. She wasn't sure that she would be able to go back to living the cold, lonely life she had once accustomed herself to.

"What'll you do once you're out of the hospital?" Al questioned, still innocent and completely clueless.

Ron took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice as level as possible," I-I don't really know, Al." It seemed like her childhood was trying to repeat itself; a good thing seemed to come into her life only for fickle fate to decide that it should be roughly and violently snatched from her fingertips. "Maybe-"

She had been cut off as a man in a black military uniform marched in the room. "I'm looking for a Miss Chase." Ron waved a hand weakly at him, and he snapped a quick salute.

"Private Fuller; I've been sent by the Fuhrer to collect your response to his request." The man stood at attention, waiting on Ron. From the overly serious way he moved to the way he had addressed his purpose, Ron could tell he took the task like a personal command from God.

Ron looked from the man to Alphonse, who as far as she could tell seemed puzzled, and back again. Her lips spread into a smile. "Tell the Fuhrer that I would be more than happy to comply with his wishes." The man saluted once more before marching out of the room in the same overdone fashion as he had entered.

"What was _that_ about?" Alphonse asked, looking at the door as the man left. His tone was both curious and suspicious at the same time.

"Don't worry, Al; I'll tell you later," Ron replied, still beaming. She had successfully solved all of the problems that had worried her in one simple solution. Edward and Alphonse would have to come back to Central sometime, and when they did she would be able to visit her friend. She wouldn't have to worry about starving on the streets anymore. It seemed like such a selfish thing to her, but she would deal with that in stride. Alphonse seemed placated and they once again chattered happily away.

It was seventeen minutes after noon by the clock on the wall when the same cheery nurse, Abigail, bustled in, her graying hair still tied back in the loose bun that bobbed behind her when she moved. "Didn't I tell you, you'd be right as rain?" The plump nurse took the clipboard at the end of the bed and wrote on it once more.

"All we need is your guardian's signature and you're free to go," she said, not looking up from the charts.

"Guardian? What do you mean 'guardian'?" Ron asked, confusion on her now alert face.

"Why that nice young man who signed all the insurance papers when you arrived, of course. About yea tall," the nurse held a hand several inches above her head, "very handsome. We already took the liberty of contacting him to come pick you up."

Anger bubbled inside of Ron as it all clicked together. She had never known that this level of hate was possible; it was more intense than that she had held for the vile woman who had kept her imprisoned for most of her childhood.

The nurse continued to flounce around the room, finally coming to a halt in front of Ron with a paper bag in hand. "These are the medications that the good doctor wanted you to be on; they're mostly vitamins, but they'll help you recover quickly so we won't have a repeat of your visit." She winked at Ron, not seeming to notice her inner fury, before bouncing from the room like a young girl.

Al looked warily at Ron as she dug her nails into her palms, gouging crescents in the tender, pale skin. "What are you going to do, Ron?" He asked the words as if expecting her to jump up and bolt out of the window in nothing but the hospital gown.

"Why what other option is left to me, Al?" She said the rhetorical question through gritted teeth, lifting her nails from her bruised flesh before it could break the skin. "I'm going to wait for my _guardian_." She spat the word as if it left a nasty taste in her mouth.

She got out of the bed as quickly as she could, yanking the machine sensors from her skin roughly. Her clothes had been neatly folded at the foot of the hospital bed, and she began to pull them on. In her wild rage, modesty wasn't the trait at the forefront of her mind; thankfully Alphonse had predicted her actions and turned before he could see anything he would regret seeing later.

Ron tucked the bag of pills into a large loose pocket in the vest of her baggy clothes. As she pulled on her ratty shoes, she heard the plump nurse prattling away in the hall.

"Yes, she's just this way. I suppose she'll be happy to see such a charming young man as yourself," the nurse said happily before her joyful belly laugh and footsteps faded away. Ron's heartbeat accelerated as one set of footfalls came toward the hospital door; the sound was slow, almost hesitant. It only made her rage flare more violently, almost like an open flame in her chest.

Finally, after what could have been an eternity the man with the coal hair and charcoal eyes, Roy Mustang, peeked around the door frame. His face was creased in agony as if Ron's hard gaze was comparable to losing one of his appendages. He, in an unusually timid manner, stepped into the room, every step a lifetime long.

Alphonse placed a cool hand on Ron's shoulder, and that was the only thing that restrained her from flying at the man before her once again. Nevertheless, she ground her teeth together in an almost painful mesh as he approached.

"Ronni, let me explain," Roy said, keeping a safe distance from Ron who looked almost ready to spring. He swallowed a seemed at a loss for words. Ron's eyebrows lowered closer to her already narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry!" he ejaculated hastily, holding his hands defensively in front of him.

"For what, Roy?" Ron asked with her jaw tightly clenched. It surprised her how much more controlled she was now that Alphonse stood at her side.

"I only did what I did because I cared about you," he said, his eyes lingering on painful memories.

"Cared about me?!" Ron laughed darkly. "Did you care about me when I was beaten? Did you care about me when I was starving and homeless? Roy, if you really cared about me at all, you wouldn't have just abandoned me. The least you could have done is sent me a letter, anything to let me know that you were still alive and you just didn't want to see me anymore. Maybe then I could have moved on with my life and found a family, instead of trusting in your empty promises!"

"Ronni, there was _never_ a time when I didn't want to see you. Not a day goes by that I don't see you in my mind, and regret everything I've done," he said, his voice pleading.

"Liar!" Ron shouted, covering her ears to his blasphemy. She futilely struggled from letting the fat tears come down her face. She looked up at him eyes blazing. "Just leave me alone, Roy. I don't need you in my life anymore, so butt out!"

She jogged past him, allowing for Al to follow her. She focused on his clanking stride, permitting the sound to numb her troubled thoughts. The hospital corridors were long and confusing, but Ron ran anyways, once more in the furious state where nothing mattered.

After what could very well have been hours of unsuccessful search, Ron found the hospital front doors. She stopped to catch her breath as she emerged into the chilling air. The cold breeze felt soothing on her still slightly swollen face. Al stood behind her, occasionally shifting from one foot to the other, metal hitting metal as he did so. Finally when her breath came back to her, she turned to look up at Alphonse, and expression closely resembling guilt on her face.

"Al," she said, looking back to the ground, focusing her eyes on her feet. "I'm sorry that you have to see that. It seems like I've only caused trouble for you since we met. Maybe…Maybe I should just leave you alone from now on." Ron couldn't tell if it was shame at her display in the hospital room or truth speaking in her words. All that she could tell was that every thought and feeling inside of her was jumbled and confused.

To her immediate surprise, he began to laugh. "Ron, that's what friends are for, as corny as it sounds. They're supposed to be there for you when you're at your lowest, and help you to pick yourself up again."

Tears pricked at the corner of Ron's face once more. She smiled at his explanation, and he put his hand on her shoulder. "So, we're really friends now?" He nodded, and her smile widened. "What a funny pair we are," she laughed, and continued in a more serious tone, "but, really, Al, you don't know how much this means to me. Thank you."

A few moments of silence passed between them, and in that space a black car pulled to the curb of the hospital, Private Fuller exiting the driver's side. He walked with the air of someone with a purpose. The soldier's distinguished march led him to Ron and Alphonse who could only stand dumbstruck at the entrance to the hospital.

Private Fuller gave a quick salute, looking in Ron's direction but seeming to see past her. The few hours had had no change on the tall man; he still had the same aura about him of someone who takes their job way too seriously, as with the first time Ron had met him.

"I have direct orders from the Fuhrer to escort Miss Chase to a special audience with the honorable King Bradley." Fuller held a rigid pose as if waiting for an answer.

Ron looked hesitantly between Alphonse, the Private, and back again, nervously chewing on her lip. On the one hand this might be the last time for God knew how long Ron would get to see Alphonse, and on the other hand…it was the _Fuhrer_. The shadow of his influence loomed over her like a cat would a defenseless mouse.

"Um…Al," she said, looking up at him eyes that entreated understanding, "I have to do something really quick, but I'll catch up with you later." The tone in her voice inferred that she held her statement as a solemn promise.

She looked forward, taking two quick strides toward Private Fuller before she allowed herself the chance to change her mid. "Let's go," Ron said curtly, barely glancing up to look at the soldier. She didn't dare turn back to see her friend, knowing that if she did she would surely lose her nerve. Only as the conservative, black car pulled away did she let her now sad gaze drift back to Alphonse. His pose seemed to be frozen in shock at how swiftly events had progressed.

Not far away from Central Hospital, the man with the black eye-patch and the false smile sat behind his expensive desk. The phone on the corner of the polished wood rang once. His eyes slowly drifted to the noisy machine as it rang a second time. On the third ring, the Fuhrer picked up the receiver and gently put it to her ear. "Hello?" he asked, in the tone he reserved for important calls that made their way to his desk.

"_Well?_" the voice on the other end asked impatiently.

"Everything is going smoothly," the Fuhrer replied, his cordial voice not skipping a beat.

"_Is that all you have to say?! How close are you to finishing you part of the job? You know she won't be happy if-_"

"I'm as close as I need to be," Bradley replied, cutting off the voice's stream of questions. "And I know that _she_ won't be happy with your stunt last night. This is still my city, so I suggest you behave yourself. Do I need to tell you how she will punish you if you destroy this opportunity?"

The voice on the other end gave a low menacing hiss before going silent for several moments. When at last the voice spoke again it shook with rage. "_How can you be so sure that your plan will work? She is much more resourceful than you give her credit for._" The final tone of the statement oozed smugness.

"That, my friend, is where you are mistaken. You overestimate humanity. You forget that I sit in the highest position of power on this great continent, and I am the puppet master pulling all of the strings. Humans are no more than cattle; they cannot and it is not their wont to think for themselves, they only wish to be led to the slaughter. You were already given a chance to take care of this problem and you failed. _I_ will not do the same." His last words rang out with a sense of finality as he hung up the phone without another thought.

The Fuhrer shuffled papers around on his desk as a polite knock came to the closed door of his office. "Yes?"

"A Miss Chase to see you, sir," his brunette receptionist said, a smile that hid countless secrets on her face.

"Let her in, please," he said. When she looked at him with a meaningful glance behind her green eyes, he gazed back calmly, purveying his meaning. "Thank you, Miss Douglas, that will be all," he had slipped back into his pleasant voice.

Ron swallowed the lump in her throat as she slowly stepped into the room. She had spent the last ten minutes being screened by the eight soldiers that comprised the Fuhrer's personal guard. She had been made to turn her pockets out twice before finally being admitted to the sunny reception room that came before the Fuhrer's personal office.

"I've been expecting you, Miss Chase. Please, have a seat," the Fuhrer said, his countenance carefully arranged in a welcoming smile as he gestured to a couch that was positioned at angles with the desk. Ron did as she was bid, feeling herself become slightly light-headed as she got off her feet. "I'm very pleased to hear that you've accepted my proposal. I've called you here to discuss the details of our arrangement."

"Details? I thought you said that there wasn't any catch to this," Ron replied, her voice wary. She wasn't about to be duped if she had any say in the matter.

"You look as if I'm asking you to commit a murder," he chuckled. "No, the details are of no great circumstance. I meant what I said when I told you that my proposal was only in your best interest."

"So, what do we need to talk about?" Ron inquired, more at ease but still keeping her tone closely guarded. There was just something about this man that she didn't take at face value, and that filled her with disquiet.

"Living arrangements, command arrangements; just as I said, nothing of consequence," the Fuhrer said, waving a hand nonchalantly. "I've already taken the liberty of sorting out your dormitory. You will be staying in the east win, and after our discussion has concluded, I'll have someone escort you there."

"Th-thank you," Ron said, marveling at how the powers that be had rewarded her.

"Now, as the alchemy exam is mere months away, I'd like you to get the proper training and instruction necessary. The only way that I see that this can be accomplished is if you are put under the charge of a state alchemist who ongoing task will be to help you prepare. Many of our alchemists are field agents, so I don't expect that you will spend much time here in Central. When you do chance to be here, you will be allowed a limited access to the books in the Central Library. Also, I thought that you would be please to know that a government stipend will be allowed to you for any other materials you may require," the Fuhrer said all of this in a very businesslike manner, never shifting his gaze from Ron's face.

"Seriously, all of that just for me!?" Ron resisted letting her jaw drop in awe.

"Why of course, but do not think that this give you the freedom to do as you please. I expect that you will follow the orders of the alchemist under who charge you are placed. I also expect that you will follow any orders given to you by their own commanding officer." The Fuhrer had adopted a stern tone, gazing down at Ron with an expression befitting that of a parent who was giving warning to a child known for being naughty.

Ron nodded quickly, expecting the man to rescind his offer if she was too slow.

"Very good; now that that topic of discussion is out of the way, I think you can go see your new quarters. Miss Douglas will inform one of my guards to guide you there." He looked down to the papers on his desk, and Ron took it that she was being dismissed. She attempted to imitate Fuller's respectful salute before hastily exiting the lavishly decorated office.

Everything seemed to pass in a hazy blur as the brown haired secretary handed her a brass key, and a surly looking soldier led her to the east wing. The same soldier left her, not bothering to salute, as soon as they came to the proper door.

Ron nervously toyed with the key in her hand for several minutes before finally sliding it into the lock. She listened to the tumblers come open as the key turned in the key hold. With a final, heaving breath, Ron opened the door and walked into her new dormitory.

Her breath caught as she entered the sun filled front room. She could tell that the large square room was the main room; it encompassed a small kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. Ron drifted around touching everything she could to make sure it was real. A polished oak door lay off on the left wall, and as she let herself in she gazed at the tastefully furnished bedroom.

As she let herself relax on the large bed that was a thousand time more comfortable than the one at the hospital, she could help but feel as if this was all too good to be true. It made her just slightly uneasy.

Roy Mustang sat in the big chair that was his, behind the large, expensive desk that was also his, contemplating his own problems. It was half past five by the clock on the wall; everyone, even Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye, had already called it a day and headed home.

He had been sitting alone, the events of earlier that day still weighing on his mind. His face had newly spawned creases from worry and stress. He could only remember one time where his mind had been this burdened; right after he had returned to Central from Ishbal. His head sank into his hands just to think of it. At least then he had had a friend to confide in; someone to keep him sane, but now who was there? Could he trust Mayes Hughes with his encumbrance?

He ran over every word of the conversation of earlier in his head once more, trying to find something that would prove the whole ordeal a non-reality. He was unsuccessful, and it only heightened the looming danger ahead of the one person he considered his family.

Two hours and seven minutes ago the Fuhrer had come into his office for the second time in just a fortnight.

"Colonel Mustang, I'm glad to see you fast at work," he had said, a smile on his face as he spied the bare desk. "I came to talk to you have a matter of vital importance."

"Sir?" Roy had turned the greeting into a question, as he quickly stood at attention.

"As you were, Colonel," the Fuhrer said lightly. Mustang relaxed his salute, drifting to a more casual stance. "My issue pertains to the young lady whom Full Metal retrieved as to my prior orders."

"Yes, sir?" Roy kept his face in a calm mask as inside he roiled with a torrent of emotions: a protectiveness that hovered over his foster sister, suspicion about what the Fuhrer could be planning, and curiosity at what everyone wanted with Ronni all of a sudden.

"She will be taking part in the State Alchemist Certification Exam in May, therefore is in need of a mentor. I'd like her to accompany Full Metal on any task assigned to him as his student until such time that she be tested," King Bradley had explained himself so calmly and civilly that for a split second Mustang had been on the verge of complying without argument. Then rational and irrational thoughts had settled in.

"Sir," he flustered, struggling for words, "are you positive that Full Metal is experienced enough? Perhaps someone a bit older; I'd be more than happy to accept the charge."

"I was not requesting this of you, Mustang, I was ordering it. I believe that Mr. Elric has proven on more than one occasion that he is completely capable of handling such a task." The Fuhrer's expression had hardened as he locked his gaze with Roy's. It had sent a shudder down his spine.

"But-" Mustang had tried to reason, but was interrupted.

"No buts. I expect that you will inform both Full Metal and the young Miss Chase of their duties within twenty-four hours of the time you receive the necessary forms." With no more say save that, the Fuhrer had swiftly exited the office. It left Mustang in awe that the Fuhrer himself would come to deliver that message instead of sending someone else.

Roy gave a heaving sign, finished reliving his memory. It all made him very tired.


End file.
